Dead Baby Downhill

So, I’m new in town.

My modus operandi in Seattle has been to go up to people, introduce myself and just sort of up and start being their friend.

Some of these friendships have only lasted about 30 seconds. My friendship with Scooter went on for about an hour, though! Hopefully I’ll run into him again.

Ethan took me to Dead Baby Downhill 2011. You know, it’s pretty interesting to compare this to the World Naked Bike Ride in Portland my boy Kevin took me to.  I would have thought there would have been a more direct correlation between nudity and mayhem, but the Portlanders were much mellower. The Baby people seemed more hipster-y, but, well, clothing is an important cue in identifying a hipster, and the Portlanders were deficient in that area. We all look like hippies when we’re naked, right?

Anyhow, I ramble. At this Dead Baby Batshittery, I met Scooter. Scooter was in charge of a conveyance made of three or four bikes welded together. There was some sort of flamethrower dealie at the top, and a barbecue on the back. He gave us hot dogs! Food! Cooked on a bicycle! I was too busy being absolutely fucking delighted by this experience to take a picture.

The whole time I was there, I asked people, “why is the baby dead?” Nobody had an answer. Luckily, Google knew. It has to do with someone with a poor notion of interior design.

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About pantsinspace

I'm an inch deep and a mile wide. Not literally. But literarily, sure.
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One Response to Dead Baby Downhill

  1. Nubian says:

    I see those tall bikes all around Corvallis and still don’t get it.

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